Once the small group made its way down the mountain, it was easy enough to find a road, and follow it to a small rural settlement. There Perseus was able to find them a place to stay, and a ride to north to Taipei, where they might find an airport and a way back to the states.
The family that put them up for the evening also happened to be hosting an American geologist named Willemin. The geologist was a young, brash, stentorian man, and he managed to drag Jones off into the night searching for the local bar. Victoria found a pallet in the back room and quickly fell asleep. Perseus stayed up for a few hours chatting amicably with the mother and father of the family, playing a game called Shogi, which looked an awful lot like chess to Shelley.
She watched the two old men play, and chatted with the woman about her family and her home. Her name was Yue, and though her English wasn't very good, it was vastly superior to Shelley's Chinese. Shelley found her a delightful little woman, full of humor and warmth. For too long Shelley had dealt only with Immortals and other supernatural beings. She found that she missed the daily interaction with ordinary people.
When the chess game was finished, the old man bowed to Perseus and clapped him on the back. The two of them retired outside for a smoke before calling it a night. Yue stood up, and told Shelley she would be going to bed. Bowing gracefully, the woman disappeared into her bedroom. Shelley clumsily bowed in turn, and then waited a few minutes before following the men outside.
It was a beautiful, clean night, and the stars twinkled like jewels on the dark sheet of night. Shelley took a deep breath, tasting only a mild bit of the tobacco scented smoke floating in the air nearby. After the terrible scenes she witnessed just twenty-four hours ago, it felt good to be standing here outside a tiny farmhouse, with the vault of Heaven overhead, and her only friend so close by. The farmer, sensing something, took only a few more puffs from his pipe, and then nodded to both Perseus and Shelley and went back inside.
Perseus turned to her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. "How are you?" he asked softly.
"Better," she answered. "Yourself?"
Perseus shrugged. "A few more days here, and my soul might begin to heal. But we cannot tarry."
Shelley nodded. It was much as she expected. "Perseus," she began.
"Yes?"
"I've been wondering for a while... how is it exactly that you saved us? Teleportation and healing aren't part of the normal Immortal repertoire of abilities."
Perseus smiled slightly and blew smoke into the air. "Remember when I told you I spent time in Peru, with the sorcerer Viracocha?" Shelley nodded. "He taught me many things," Perseus continued, "and the ability to manipulate my Quickening to create a variety of effects was one of them. I can influence minds, create shields, teleport, even heal on occasion. There's a price I pay everytime I use the power, though. Especially if I try to do too much at once."
"You... aged," Shelley said.
"Yes, and I was also exhausted and clumsy when I healed Victoria. Which is why she is a part of me now, and I her."
Shelley nodded. "What else can you do?" she asked.
Perseus dropped his dying cigarette to the ground, and put his boot on it. He smiled grimly. "A great many things. But most of them require a greater expenditure of energy than I am willing to use. It is better to use the ley lines, but it can be very difficult to harness those energies. It takes preparation and concentration; neither of which were available in great quantities yesterday."
"Are you going to teach me how to do that stuff?"
Perseus looked at her sharply. "No," he said. Then he stooped over, collected his dead cigarette, and headed back in the house.
Shelley watched him leave, and then kicked a tuft of grass growing in the dirt. "Jeez, sorry I asked," she muttered.
Alec and Rachel burst out of the front door of City Hall, both pistols still in Alec's hands and the spider clinging to his shoulder.
"What the hell are those things?" Rachel hissed.
"Damned if I know," Alec grunted. The rain was still coming down fairly hard, and a wind had picked up and was throwing the droplets of water against the two of them with some ferocity. It was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of oneself, though the mirrored shades on Alec's nose kept the rain out of his eyes. If luck was with them, these monsters would play the game like every other supernatural beastie in New Orleans. Now that Alec and Rachel were outside, in public, they would be safe. Counting on that, however, would be stupid.
"C'mon," Alec said. "Let's get out of here." He started down the steps, but Rachel grabbed his jacket.
"Wait a second," she said. "Do you hear that?"
Alec looked around. Through the rain, he saw a few cars passing by on the street ahead, noticeable only because of their lights, but there appeared to be no one on the sidewalks, and the buildings around them looked dim. He looked at Rachel. "Hear what?"
"It sounded like... horses," she said.
Alec shook his head. "We have to get moving. No time to play 'Name that Noise,'" he grumbled. He turned back to the stairs and headed down them, taking two at a time. Rachel was right behind him, pulling her hood up over her red hair and mumbling about him being an asshole as she did so. It didn't bother Alec. Most people thought he was an asshole.
Alec slipped one of his pistols back under the jacket, and his hand brushed against the hole in his chest, where the sword had pierced him. He paused in mid-stride. The hole should have healed by now. He touched his cheek, where the monster's claw had scraped him. His cheek was whole and unmarred.
Rachel paused a few steps below him. "Something wrong?" she asked.
Alec shook his head, too scared to speak. For the past few days he had been walking around feeling invulnerable. He could heal any kind of wound in seconds -- a point blank bullet to the brain had only slowed him down. But now he had a big hole in his chest that wasn't going away. This was bad. Very bad.
Through the rain, he heard metal and glass explode. He turned, and saw the demons smash their way through city hall's front door and step out into the rain. So much for not being seen in public.
"Alec!" Rachel yelled. Alec grabbed her hand and they ran. Behind them, the dead white things followed, their silvery weapons glinting weirdly in the wet darkness. They reached the bottom of the stairs quickly, and Alec pulled Rachel in the direction of his bike.
"My car's that way," she said, gesturing vaguely.
"No time," he mumbled, dragging her along. And then he heard it. What Rachel had called attention to earlier -- a sound like horseshoes clicking against cobbles, the jingle of harness. Alec zeroed in on the source of the sound. Across the street, trotting beneath a streetlight, was a gaunt, skeletal horse, bone white and thin. Scarps of silvery metal seemed to be bolted to its desiccated hide, and bits of reddish rust could be seen staining the metal. Astride the animal, armed with a massive broadsword, was another of the dead white things with the empty eyes.
As Alec watched, the rider tugged at the reins, and the horse reared up. Then rider and mount leapt onto the street and advanced towards Alec and Rachel. A car swerved and nearly hit the dead things; instead it screeched across the wet surface of the road, over the curb, and into a pay phone.
"Move!" barked Alec. He aimed the pistol at the horse and squeezed off a few shots that didn't seem to do any good. And then he ran, trying to keep up with Rachel and ahead of the monster.
And then they were upon his bike, and he gave the monsters a few more shots of lead death to worry about. Rachel hopped on the bike as soon as she reached it. "Let's go," she commanded.
Alec could see another of the horses and its demonic rider further down the street, advancing as slowly as the other one. "A moment dear," he said, slipping his pistol under his jacket. He paused to rummage through the saddlebags on the bike, and pulled his shotgun free. Rachel gave a low whistle. "Got a helmet in there?" she asked.
The first rider was almost upon them, swinging his sword lazily in a wide arc. Behind it, Alec could see the other two demons; they had picked up the pace a bit and were jogging toward their prey.
Alec straddled the bike and aimed the shotgun at the horse's head. He pulled the trigger. The bullet smashed across the demon horse's forehead, ricocheting wildly. But the force of the blow was enough to cause the animal to stagger and weave slightly. Alec had a moment to act. He kick started the bike and roared past the rider and the two running demons. He handed the gun back to Rachel, and told her to shoot at anything that looked dead. Then he turned his concentration to weaving through the rain and the traffic.
He checked his mirrors. To his horror, the two riders were following him, and not only had they been joined by a third mounted demon, but their undead horses seemed capable of keeping up with speed of his motorcycle. No doubt about it. He and Rachel were going to die. Unless he could come up with a plan. He wondered briefly if the Jamaican had a rocket-launcher he was willing to part with. Or maybe some grenades. Hmmm... what was the next best thing to explosives?
Two more of the riders appeared in his mirrors. Somehow, he could tell that they were the ones that attacked them in the building. Apparently, they had found some transportation. This whole scenario was rapidly getting out of hand. One or two of the creatures he could have handled easily -- but not five. Especially not five demons on undead chargers.
He wondered briefly if the other drivers and motorists could see the monsters, and what they thought of them. The demons probably weren't getting the finger or any angry honking, like Alec was. Maybe he could lead them out of the city, and lose them in a bog or something... yeah, maybe. Alec checked the gas gauge anyway. Not enough to make it out of the city and to the swamps.
Gas.
Alec suddenly had a plan. Up ahead, he saw a small church on the corner. He slowed down, and pulled up alongside the curb. "Get off here. Stay in the church. I'll lead them away."
Rachel looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Are you sure?"
Alec risked a glance behind him. The monsters were gaining. "I'm the only one here they can't hurt," he lied. He grabbed the shotgun. "Now go."
She leapt off the bike and raced through the rain toward the church. Alec watched her go, and then looked back at the demons. He pointed the shotgun toward them and fired twice, to keep them interested. Then he revved the bike and squealed away from church.
What he needed wasn't anything fancy. The first spot he found would do. But his luck held, and it took him nearly five blocks to find a suitable place to make his stand. With the weather, and the lateness of the hour, he was fortunate to find the Mobil station empty -- no cars were parked by the pumps. He pulled up in front of the pumps and leapt off the bike, racing into the little convenience store.
Behind the register sat a chubby boy just getting out of his late teens, his face scarred by acne. Alec pointed the muzzle of the shotgun at him. "Are you the only one here?"
"N-no," the boy stuttered. "Al's in the garage."
Goddammit. Like he didn't already have enough complications. Through the huge Plexiglas window, Alec could see the undead riders approaching swiftly. Alec waved the shotgun at the kid. "I want you outside. Now. As soon as you get out there, start running, and don't look back. If you don't, I'll kill you."
The boy was frozen, staring at the gun. Alec shifted his aim, an fired at the Hostess display. Snack cakes exploded everywhere, and the boom of the gun reverberated under the fluorescent lights of the store.
"Move!" Alec shouted.
The boy bolted from behind the counter, and ran out into the rain, screaming and crying as he did so.
The riders were getting closer.
Alec jacked another couple shells into the gun, and ran headed for the door into the garage. He kicked it open and stepped into the dank room that smelled of gasoline and oil and machinery. A hirsute man with oil stained fingers leaned over the engine of a '74 oldsmobile. His mouth was hanging open, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.
Alec pointed the gun at him. "You. Out of here. Now." The man only needed to be told once. He ran for the back door, without a glance at Alec.
Alec hurried back into the store, and paused only to ensure the pumps were still on. Outside the riders waited for him, astride their massive, skeletal horses. Silver weapons gleamed harshly under the bright lights of the gas station. Ten pairs of dead eyes stared at Alec through the window.
One of the riders dismounted clumsily, hefting its ax in its twisted hands. Then it stepped towards the door. Alec almost laughed. Demons who always used the front door. He aimed the shotgun at the window, and the gas pumps beyond. He pulled the trigger. The bullet shattered glass, and flew towards the pump. Everything went white.
The Green Room was empty. The lights were dimmed, and the door was locked tightly. In the back room, as far from his shop as he could get, sat Kurt Densmore, once more human in appearance and in mind. A bottle of scotch, half-empty, was placed at his elbow, and in his hand he held a shot glass, newly emptied.
He looked around at his tiny kitchen, dark like his mood, and wondered about how he could possibly salvage the losses he and his friends had taken. Perseus was dead, swallowed up in nuclear fire. Hazard was out of commission, struck down by the witches. Gabrial the Archangel had disappeared for parts unknown. The allies Kurt was left with did not show much promise. Alec might be of some help, but Wraiths were such limited creatures really. Rachel Van Horn, a lovely girl, but could her mind withstand the terrors headed for Earth? Bran was good with a sword, true, but how effective would that blade be against an Elder God?
All that stood between humanity and oblivion, it seemed, was a single Nightspawn named the Revenant. A being who made his living hunting monsters and finding old knowledge. And yet he knew in his heart that no amount of schooling or arcane Nightbane might would matter in the coming battle. For Mephistopheles the Dark Prince commanded the legions who worshipped Chibbikukk and sought to return that evil deity to power.
Kurt poured another shot, and quickly downed it. He considered his options. They were few. He could contact Baal, Orion, and Medea. They might be able to help. But how much could they offer, really? They were Nightbane like him, ancient and powerful, but relatively useless against such terrible foes as Kurt faced. Still, they might be able to even the odds. A possibility. The Mystery Council? Kurt shook his head. Perseus had never trusted them, and Kurt was reluctant to do so. Bran, however, might know other Immortals who could help. He might even know how to contact Perseus' old mentor, Viracocha. But that was a slim hope at best.
Who else, then? There were so few of the old guard left. Age and combat had carried most of them out of the picture. Few vampires could be trusted; Kurt knew from experience that Hazard was an anomaly of the race. The Lycanthropic species might provide cannon fodder, but little else. The same was true of the Gargoyles. Though, if he could find some way to contact their Ninth Circle, he might find some worthy allies there. The Ninth Circle was said to comprise the mightiest sorcerers of the Gargoyles. It wouldn't even be all that difficult to find them. However, the Ninth Circle, like most Gargoyles, despised all anything that was not a Gargoyle. They might even welcome the destruction of all life. What if they had already allied themselves with Mephistopheles?
Kurt groaned and took another shot of scotch. And now his head was pounding. No -- wait -- that was the front door. Kurt grunted and rose to his feet. He shifted into his true form, that of the Revenant. He made his way cautiously through the shop and to the door. He clenched his fists, and wished that his regenerative abilities would deal with the alcohol in his system more quickly. Then he unlocked the door and threw it open.
Rachel and Alec stood there, looking terrible. Rachel looked wet and cold; her red hair was snarled and frizzy and her eyes held a bone-numbing weariness. Alec looked far worse. His clothing looked like it had caught fire and then quickly stamped out, and smudges of carbon marred his pale white skin. His trademark mirrored sunglasses were gone, and heavy shadows hung under his eyes.
Rachel took a step back when the Revenant opened the door. Alec sighed heavily. "Another one," he said, producing one of his pistols.
The Revenant quickly shifted back to human form. "Relax, guys, its just me," he told them. They looked relieved, though puzzled. "You better come inside," he said, stepping back from the door. The filed inside, and Kurt quickly turned on the lights. "Do you need coffee or anything?" he asked them. Alec shook his head, but Rachel nodded the affirmative. Kurt realized he would probably need some too; as the two kids found places to sit down and relax, Kurt headed into the kitchen and started the coffee. As soon as he had the water started, he headed back out to the shop.
"Now, what exactly happened tonight?"
Rachel deferred to Alec. The Wraith shrugged as his arachnid familiar poked its head out from behind his shoulder. "We were looking for clues at city hall. And then we were attacked."
"By who?" Kurt asked.
Alec shrugged again. "Big, white demons. They had silver swords and empty eyes. They looked like something out of Bosch."
Kurt sat down heavily. Rachel leaned forward in concern. "Are you all right?" she asked him.
Kurt shook his head. "You just described the Carnifexi."
"The who?"
Kurt glared at Alec. "The Carnifexi. The Killing Ones. The executioners of the Kherubim. They can't be stopped. They're already dead, and their weapons carry a deadly enchantment. No one has ever stopped the Carnifexi from doing what they were programmed to do. But they've been... away for many years. I thought them gone."
Alec smiled grimly at Kurt. "Well, I don't know how indestructible they are, but I blew them up, and I don't think they'll be bothering us any time soon."
"You blew them up?" Kurt asked. "How -- no, don't tell me. It doesn't matter. You probably only slowed them down a bit." He narrowed his eyes and looked towards the front door. "The Carnifexi are probably already on their way here."
Alec just stared at him, his good humor leeching away. Rachel glanced at Alec for a moment and then spoke to Kurt. "Who are the Kherubim?"
"The Kherubim?" Kurt said slowly.
"Yes," Rachel nodded. "You said they worked for the Kherubim? Who are they?"
Kurt sighed. "The Kherubim are... a... race of supernaturals who are involved in Earth's affairs."
Alec shifted in his seat. "There has to be more to it than that, Kurt. C'mon. These guys tried to kill us. Spill it."
Kurt looked at them both for a long while. At last he said, "Oh, very well. Let me just get the coffee." He stood up and went into the kitchen, to return with two steaming mugs, a pot of milk and some sugar, all laid out on a fine silver tray. He set it down in front of Rachel, and while she added what she liked, he took his seat.
"The Kherubim are an ancient race. Older than humans. Older than Vampires, Lycanthropes, Immortals, and all the rest. They are said to be the children of the Elder Gods, but that's only so much rubbish. In truth, the Kherubim are an alien race, born eons ago on a world that orbits a distant star."
Alec interrupted. "Wait a minute," he said, "you're talking aliens as in little green men and ray guns?"
"Not exactly," Kurt answered. "The Kherubim evolved on a world many light-years from Earth. They were kind and gentle and strong, and they created a kind of paradise on their world, where all lived in peace and harmony. They carved out huge crystal cities from the living rock, and cultivated vast gardens that seemed more like forests than anything tame. For millennia, they lived in peace and security. Until Mephistopheles was born.
Now it was Rachel's turn. "Mephistopheles? As in Goethe, Faust, and Marlowe?"
"The word 'Mephistopheles' is the closest human approximation to his true name. And yes, the tragedy of Doctor Faustus is based on an encounter between a human alchemist and Mephistopheles the Kherubim. At any rate, this Mephistopheles, while quite young, proved to be a brilliant child. he mastered sorcery and other esoteric sciences. And he began to feel himself superior to all his brethren. In time, he began to gather to himself other like minded individuals. And this fellowship, called the Seraphim, began to follow pursuits of a decidedly darker nature than most Kherubim."
"The wise ones among the Kherubim tried to convince the Seraphim to stop, before they unleashed something that could not be bottled up again. But Mephistopheles could not be dissuaded, and at last, a mighty war began. A war which lasted many thousands of years, and destroyed the crystal palaces, laid waste the beautiful gardens, and shattered the harmony and contentment of a race."
"In time, their battles destroyed their homeworld, making it into a lifeless ball of rock. But still the Kherubim lived. They sought new battlegrounds to continue their conflict. And so they passed from world to world, star to star, always fighting, always leaving destruction in their wake, no matter how hard the good Kherubim tried to save each world."
"And at last, the Kherubim were drawn to Earth, in the midst of the great war that would soon banish the Elder gods from this plane of existence. And when that war was over, and the ley lines were depleted of their once great stores of energy, the Kherubim were stranded on Earth. No more could they simply shift themselves to another planet when the time suited them. They were forced to settle here, and make a crude truce."
"Their numbers on Earth were never great, having lost most of their population long before. So they separated into two bands -- the Cherubim and the Seraphim -- the Angels and the Demons -- and the relocated to obscure corners of the globe. The Demons propagated and multiplied, but as the other sentients arose, the Demons were pushed back. The Angels, still grieving over lost friends and lost worlds, hibernated in secret."
"The Angels would emerge on occasion, singly or in pairs, to observe the world and harass the Demons. As time wore on, though, fewer and fewer Angels or Demons appeared. At last, it seemed they were all gone, save for a few individuals living in hiding. And the ascent of Humankind was ensured."
"About one thousand years ago, a new crop of demons appeared on the Earth, a bare handful. Among them was Mephistopheles himself. He attempted to reignite the old hatreds, but his crusade was short-lived. The Archangel Gabrial, Mephistopheles' old mentor and most bitter enemy, was able to find a band of heroes to push Mephistopheles back into the darkness. Those heroes fought many of the creations the Demons had labored on in secret for thousands of years. Among those creatures were the Carnifexi. Seven slain Demons given the semblance of life, and terrible weapons that..."
Alec interrupted Kurt once again. "Did you say 'seven'?" he asked.
Kurt was about to say yes, when the front door exploded in a shower of splinters.
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